


there's no safety net that's underneath, i'm free (falling all in)

by mevies



Category: Descendants (2015), Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/F, i hope you like this?, i think it's funny. maybe it's funny., mentions of Uma and Harry and Lonnie!, most of this is me rambling i think., ummm mal's a mess. i project a lot in my writing i've come to realize.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 19:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15008207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mevies/pseuds/mevies
Summary: **(Filed under: Google later if romanticizing getting seriously injured for romantic attention is any sign of mental instability.)





	there's no safety net that's underneath, i'm free (falling all in)

**Author's Note:**

> Heellooo. This is just one of the dozens of AUs I'm trying to finish! Small disclaimer tho, this story I had originally written for an old fandom, but wasn't too happy with how it was and thought it'd be much better for Malvie. So I revamped it, changed a CHUNK of stuff - basically: re-wrote the whole thing from scratch and only *barely* kept the basic plot. A lot of the original stuff went right in its rightful place - aka the trash - and I added stuff that made my heart sing. I also ramble a lot in this one, which seems to happen when I get excited by something I'm writing. (I'm rambling now. I'm aware.)
> 
> This edited (and in my opinion, upgraded and better) version was inspired loosely by Fallin' All In You by Shawn Mendes, and a one sentence prompt that went a little something like: "you know we don’t have a Loyalty Card program for our regular patients" a whole buncha years ago. 
> 
> Anyway, enough of that. I hope you guys enjoy this one!

“Do you think when we’re done with this we can get something to eat? I’m starving,” Ben commented as he kicked his feet around in front of the chair he was sitting on, his hands brought together on his lap as he watched his own movements. His little badge slash sticker pointing him as Mal’s companion that the nurse had given him was no longer stuck to his blue sweater, but to his forehead as the hour went by.

Mal guessed it was a busy day at the hospital, because they’d been here for about an hour and there still hadn’t been anyone to tend to Mal’s ankle. But then again, she guesses if there had been a big accident she doesn’t know about, her ankle would certainly be the last of the doctor’s concerns.

Even if it was aching quite a bit (read, a lot).

It all had happened because of a freak accident. Well. Not exactly a freak accident, because Mal quite clearly remembers Uma telling them that turning the frozen river on Ben’s backyard into an impromptu ice-skating rink when they a) were using their sneakers as ice-skating shoes and b) didn’t know how to ice-skate was not a good idea, but like, the way her leg bended _was_ kinda freaky. She remembers Ben going a little green and Harry screaming when he saw it happen, Uma only shaking her head and telling Ben to take her to a hospital quickly.

So, here they were, Mal sitting on the hospital bed careful not to move her leg as she watched Ben fiddle with his own hands for entertainment. “I don’t know, did you remember to bring your credit card this time? I’m not paying for your Happy Meal again.”

Ben looks offended, “I did, thank you. And that was _one time.”_

“Sure, whatever, I’ve seen your collection of toys.”

“ _Action_ figures.”

“Not if they’re from McDonald’s, they’re not.”

Ben huffs but doesn’t say anything to that, so Mal knows she’s won. They sit in silence for a moment before Ben speaks up again, completely changing the subject, “Do you think they got like, color options for your cast?”

“Huh?”

“Y’know when I broke my arm last year and I got that blue cast? They had different colors to choose from.”

Mal blinks, “Dude, you’re like, way too old for that kinda thing.”

Ben ignores her and keeps talking, “Like, most of my clothes are blue, so I wanted something that would match, you know? Audrey was proud of me for that one.”

“ _Jesus._ Why am I here with you?”

“Because Uma told me to drive you,” Ben said before returning to his little tale of cast color picking that Mal had promptly and expertly tuned out.

Mal was staring blankly at the white tiles of the room ceiling for what felt like ages, trying her hardest not to focus too much on the throbbing pain on her ankle, before her attention was snapped out of her trance by Ben calling her name repeatedly.

“Hmm? What?” She looked at Ben with a frown.

“The doc is here to put on your cast,” Ben informs, nodding towards someone Mal hadn’t noticed before. She looks from Ben towards the woman in white scrubs and gapes.

“Hello, Mal.” The woman greets, and Mal is only able to nod in response, not trusting her voice – or her brain - very much at the moment. The woman seems to be about their age, maybe two years older give or take, her long brown hair partly braided, showing off her incredibly defined jawline and smooth skin  - and don’t even get Mal started on her lips. Before Mal could dive even further deep in her trance, Ben broke it.

“Do you think we could get her tested out for a concussion, Doc? I think she’s having trouble focusing.” Mal snapped her head towards him and glared, and the boy threw his hands up in peace offering, “Gee, I was just being a good concerned friend.”

Before Mal can say anything to that, the doctor chuckles and says, “How about we put that cast on?” She asks, and Mal wants to like, die, because even this woman’s voice is attractive. It’s raspy and low and – why is Ben chuckling? Narrowing her eyes, she watched as Ben smiled innocently at her as the doctor began working on her ankle. “Okay, this might hurt a little because I have to put it back in place, so if you’d like to lie down so you don’t have to look…” The doctor said soothingly, her voice bringing shivers down Mal’s spine, and the blonde nodded before lying down, choosing to stare at Ben’s face as the doctor counted to three and – _MOTHERFUCKER._

Ben winced and Mal went red at the realization that she had yelled that out loud.

“Sorry.” She said, sheepish, at having yelled that in front of the attractive doctor.

The brown-haired woman shook her head at her, giving her a little understanding smile, “Don’t worry, that’s a pretty common word around here.” Then, she turned her attention back to her leg, “So, now on to the cast.”

Mal was so distracted by the way the doctor’s light brown eyes looked in this fluorescent light that she almost missed Ben’s low chuckle again. She turned her head to him and narrowed her eyes again, back to watching him like a hawk as he smiled at her.

The moment the doctor had announced she was finished was the moment Mal allowed herself to break her one-sided glaring contest with the boy and sit up, turning her attention to the cast that was now wrapped around her leg.

_What. The. Fuck._

“They have color options here,” was all a grinning Ben said once his best friend took in the hot orange color glaring back at her from her leg.

“You little…” She stopped herself, not finding a word strong enough to describe the boy. He smiled widely at her and she huffed.

Mal turned her attention towards the doctor, who’d been watching them with an amused expression on her face, and she noticed for the first time the nametag hanging from her coat’s pocket – _Dr. Grimhilde._

Dr. Grimhilde met her eyes and smiled, “I’ll go grab your crutches. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Then, after saying that, she left the room. Ben was quiet for a moment before he stood, grabbing a sharpie from a pencil cup from a table in the corner of the room. Then, he walked towards Mal, twirling the sharpie in his fingers with a grin. “Can I be the first one to sign it?”

Mal glared, and before she could give any sort of response, Ben was uncapping the sharpie and leaning down, ready to leave his mark. Before the sharpie could touch the hot orange cast, Mal slapped the sharpie out of his hands, just in time for the sharpie to fly and land on Dr. Grimhilde’s feet as she returned with Mal’s crutches.

“That was rude.” Ben glared.

Mal ignored him and turned her attention to the doctor. “These are for you.” She informed, helping Mal up with Ben’s aid and positioning the metal crutches under each arm. When it was all settled, she gave Mal a smile, “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Definitely,” Mal muttered and let Ben guide her out of the room.

“Now, McDonald’s!” Ben exclaims excitedly throwing his hands up in the air, and then there’s a groan. “Oops, sorry Mal. I didn’t mean to hit you on the forehead.”

Mal only hoped she wouldn’t have to come here sooner.

/

Two weeks later, and Mal and Ben could be found in the same spot as exactly two weeks prior, this time with Ben tapping away happily on his phone as he sat on the same visitor’s chair, with Mal absentmindedly watching him as she tried not to get a last look on her hot orange cast – the damned thing had been the bane of her existence for these last two weeks. The incessant jokes between Uma, Ben and Harry seemed to never stop, and Mal like, had headaches from even like, looking at it for a split second. It was _that_ bad.

To say she was excited to be finally removing it would be an understatement – and, well, if she’s a little excited to see the doctor that’d she always find herself thinking of for the past two weeks… that’s none of your business. (But she totally is.)

“Good afternoon, Miss Bertha.” Dr. Grimhilde greets, and Mal winces at the family name that only seems to make it known when she least wants it to be – not that she like, ever wants it to be. But you get it. There’s a hint of a smile on the doctor’s angelic features as she turns to Ben, “Hello,” she greets him, and he looks up from his phone and smiles.

“Miss Doc, hello.” He greeted happily, and Mal rolled her eyes at his stupid boyish charm – she thinks that’s why she’s stuck around for so long and why Ben’s managed to become her best friend (aside from Uma, of course): because of his easy going and generally nice nature that complemented Mal’s general snarky and moody one so well - his resemblance to a human golden retriever was uncanny.

Mal turned her attention back to the doctor, who was still smiling at Ben, “So, are we ready to get rid of this thing?” She asks, pointing to the hot orange cast in distaste, refusing to acknowledge it with her own eyes – that’s the thing she uses to like, _see_ things.

“Yep!” She says cheerily, sitting down in front of Mal and lifting her leg, “Let’s get started.”

/

“All done.” Dr. Grimhilde said, putting the remains of the hot orange mess away on the big trash can near the table where, as far as Mal's concerned, it belonged.

“Thank you.” Mal sighed gratefully. She pulled her backpack closer to her and fished inside for the other half of the sneakers she had on. She put it on, happy, and got to working on the laces.

Ben stood up from the chair, pocketing his phone, “Listen, I gotta use the restroom before we leave, okay? I’ll be back in a second.” When Mal nodded at him, he turned to leave, but not before he paused at the doorway and gave the two women a suspicious look – which they both missed, one focused on her shoelaces and the other looking at a clipboard on her hands.

Once Mal’s finished tying her shoes, she looks up and notices Dr. Grimhilde hadn’t left the room. She wants to cease the moment and start a conversation, but she doesn’t know what to say. She scurries through her brain, trying to come up with anything, but the only thing she can think of to say is, _“So, how old are you?”_ , which she blurts out and then blushes.

Dr. Grimhilde looks up from the clipboard in her hands and smiles as she answers, “I’m 25.”

Mal grinned. She was right in assuming the woman was only two years older than her.

Good.

But before she could do or say anything about it, Ben walked back into the room, a grin on his face as he unwraps a blue lollipop. “Ready?”

Nodding, Mal jumped from the bed, stumbling a bit and almost falling. Luckily, Dr. Grimhilde caught her just before she could fall flat on her face as Ben stood in front of her, watching in horror, the blue lollipop halfway to his mouth.

Mal turned to the doctor with a grin, “I’ll see you soon.”

Dr. Grimhilde frowned, “You will? Why?”

“With the way things are going? I’ll be surprised if I’m not here tomorrow.” Ben chuckled and Dr. Grimhilde smiled.

Just as she was crossing the doorway, Ben’s arms around her in support while she tried to get used to walking without her cast again, Dr. Grimhilde called out.

“See you soon, then.”

* * *

She should’ve seen it coming.

No, seriously, she should have. There were many glaring warnings in the scene before her, but she chose to ignore them and went along with it anyway.

And by going along with it, she means that she just stood and watched in amusement as Ben and Harry ran around her living room, shooting at each other with their brand new NERF guns (because, you know, they were adults).

Her amusement, however, soon disappeared as soon as Ben tripped on thin air and with one quick motion, accidentally shot in her direction – or, most precisely, right into her eye.

“Dude, _bull’s eye_.” Harry had said just a few seconds before Mal had started screaming, making Uma run into the room in concern and Ben start panicking as he noticed the red coming out of his best friend’s eyes – so… yeah. She’s in the ER again, not many days after she had (jokingly!) said she would.

The receptionist, Lonnie, looked up at the sound of people approaching and smiled when she saw Ben and Mal, the latter holding her hand up to her eye.

“Back so soon, Mal?” She teased, grabbing a paper to fill in the needed information. Mal gulped at the mental image she had of her medical records at this very hospital – it was probably massive. “What was it this time?”

“I’m going blind on my right eye.” Mal answered. Lonnie blinked and then looked at Ben for guidance.

The boy sheepishly shrugged and put his hands in his jacket’s pockets. “I accidentally shot at her with a NERF gun.”

Lonnie shook her head, trying her hardest not to laugh, and Mal closed her good eye and shook her head, taking a deep breath to stay calm.

“Okay, Mal, you can just go ahead and wait in your usual room,” She winked teasingly, and the blonde tried not to be offended. (It’s not like this was uncalled for.) “Dr. Grimhilde should be there in a few.”

Suddenly Mal’s spirits were lifted.

She nodded and started making her way towards the room. She motioned for Ben to stay outside in one of the hallway chairs and ignored his pout as she walked in, sitting down on the hospital bed in her usual spot.

She didn’t have to wait long, soon Dr. Grimhilde walked into the room, her hair pulled up in a ponytail, her face covered in light makeup and her lips turned up in a warm smile, “Well, I have to say; when you told me we’d see each other soon I assumed you were just kidding.”

“I really wasn’t,” then, she motions with the hand that isn’t covering her hurt eye to the entire situation and sighs, “I’m no professional, but I think this is gonna call for an eye-patch.”

The doctor frowned, walking over to her. “What happened?” She asked, motioning for Mal to uncover her eye. When the blonde complied, she leaned in closer to study the injury.

“Ben and his stupid toys,” Mal made to roll her eyes, but remembered she probably shouldn’t last minute. She tensed and then sighed in relief at the realization she had probably just avoided the amount of pain to last a lifetime.

Dr. Grimhilde’s lips tugged up at the corner in amusement at the response and her eyes reflected her amusement, but otherwise her expression was kept clean.

“Mmm, I see.” She turned to the table at the corner of the room, opening some drawers and rummaging through them for a moment. When she looked up back at Mal, the amusement was clear in her voice when she raised a hot pink eye-patch, “How about this color?”

Mal blanched.

“White is fine, thank you.”

* * *

Okay.

So… maybe this time it’s kind of her fault, too. Like, completely her fault. Perhaps, if she really wanted to, she could kind of twist it and make it Ben’s fault somehow, or even Harry’s, but this time it is like… her fault.

It all happened like this:

It was a sunny day and the weather was hot after two months of snow and rain and cold, Ben was bored because Audrey was in some sort of family vacation, Uma had stayed over, and at 9AM, Harry and Ben had showed up unannounced telling them to hurry to get their bikinis because they were going to the lake with the waterfall near Ben’s house.

Okay, so, cool. They grabbed their bikinis, prepared some snacks, and sure enough, by 9:30, they were all inside Ben’s car and making their way to the lake.

All is fine.

And then, it went downhill like this:

Ben jumped into the lake from the rocks near the waterfall. Harry followed suit. And then so did Uma. Mal stood there, uncertain, staring down at the water where her friends were cheering her on, everything in her body and soul telling her to just like, _not_ jump. (There’s something kind of poetic about this moment, she’s sure of it.)

But, you know, she’s dumb and easily influenced by dangerous behavior, and soon enough, she’s jumping.

Only…

Only her jump is kind of a slip, and the water feels a lot like a rock, and only like, three seconds before her whole world fades to black does she remember she can’t exactly swim.

So that’s how she turned up here. _Here_ being a hospital bed, in a hospital room, with machines that were connected to her body beeping annoyingly and incessantly, Ben’s light snores coming from the visitor’s couch and the low hum of whatever TV show he had left on being the only noises around.

She sighs. This is really her own fault.

Not much later than that, there’s a light knock on the door followed by someone opening said door a little, revealing a worried looking Dr. Grimhilde peeking behind it.

Mal nodded at her to come in, and the woman walked in, closing the door behind her, and walking towards Mal’s bedside with a concerned frown gracing her beautiful features.

“How are you feeling?” She asked softly, as if to not disturb her – or maybe to not wake Ben up from his nap -, and Mal gave her a small smile, to which she quickly returned with one of her own.

“I’m fine,” Mal responded, “In slight pain and angry at myself.”

Dr. Grimhilde frowned again, but this time in confusion, “Why?”

“Don’t you know why I’m here?”

The woman’s face lightened up in understanding, “Right.”

Mal could see a hint of amusement on the woman’s face and she sighed. Dr. Grimhilde smiled at her, “I was looking through your medical records… You know, for research.”

Mal gulped but nodded at her go keep going, “I’ll have to wait until your concussion’s better to diagnose you for sure, but based on the things I’ve read… I think we’re safe to say to give your rather… lengthy medical records a plausible and dignified explanation, you have something we call Developmental Coordination Disorder, or DCD.”

Mal blinked.

“It’s probably only a mild case, but at least when people ask you why you’re so clumsy you have a good answer. Unfortunately, there really isn’t much we can do in terms of treatment… it’s more of a practice makes perfect mixed with watch where we’re going sort of thing.” Dr. Grimhilde smiled, and Mal chuckled. She asked a few questions after that, not really absorbing anything because Dr. Grimhilde looked like, really attractive today – and every day, really. Even the days Mal didn’t see her.

It wasn’t long before their conversation turned back to the matter at hand – the matter being Mal’s concussion.

“You better take care of yourself, Mal.” Dr. Grimhilde said seriously, “I really love seeing you, but I hate seeing you hurt so often. It’s a wonder you’re still alive, from how often I’ve read you hit your head or got seriously injured.” She shakes her head, “You had me pretty worried this time.”

Mal blushed, wondering if Dr. Grimhilde said that to all of her patients.

“In fact, I’m starting to wonder if I should just keep you locked in here.”

Mal chuckled, careful not to trigger another headache, “Wouldn’t work. I’ve actually gotten injured in this same hospital… I think it might be on page 540 or something of my records,” She informs, “Uma ran me into a wall while I was on a wheelchair – my leg was broken at the time. Skating accident.”

Dr. Grimhilde, who had been looking at her rendered speechless as she spoke, perked up a little at the last addition, “You skate?”

“Nope. I was trying to learn.”

“ _Wow_.”

/

The next day, while she was getting checked out of the hospital, Ben had ran out to get his car and park it out front for her while she signed off some papers and Dr. Grimhilde insisted she stayed with her the entire time, saying it was her job to make sure that Mal got out safely.

The blonde tried to act offended, but the small, goofy grin on her face gave her away.

* * *

Okay. Fine.

Maybe hitting her head so many times caused a short circuit of some sort in her brain that prevented her from thinking like a normal person. Like, that has to be it. It’s really not her fault her brain lacks the capacity of formulating common sense.

She’ll spare you the details, in order to protect the little dignity she still has left as we near the ending of this story, but it involves a wet spot on the floor, her ignoring the sign to tell her to be careful, and not long afterwards, being rewarded with a trip to the hospital – all by her lonesome, this time. (Seriously, even Human Gold Retriever Ben wouldn’t want to be there again for the, what, fifth time in two months?!)

No, she just called an Uber with the hand without the non-sprained wrist and went on her merry – and slightly painful - way.

The urge to smile through her throbbing wrist as she sat in her usual spot in the same hospital bed was too strong, and seriously - there’s no way this behavior is normal.

_(Note to self: Take an online quiz later to see if I have sociopath tendencies or something of the sort.)_

“Mal, you know we don’t have a Loyalty Card program for our regular patients,” Dr. Grimhilde commented in way of greeting as she walked in the room, a clipboard in her hands. Mal was swinging her sneakers clad feet back and forth.

“I’ve got DDA or whatever, remember?” Mal said, and Dr. Grimhilde paused and looked up at her from her chart, an amused look on her face, “What?”

“DCD. I think you have a mild case of DCD.” She corrected, her voice light and amused and – God.

“Yeah. That.”

Dr. Grimhilde looked back at the charts and then she took the x-rays Mal had taken moments earlier to the light and frowned, “Fractured wrist.”

She walked towards where Mal knew they kept the cast materials and rummaged through some drawers. Not looking up, she asked, “Hot orange again for old time’s sake?”

Mal gulped. “Funny.”

“I thought so.”

She set the things next to Mal and carefully grabbed her wrist and positioned it so she could start applying her cast. They were in silence for a while, and Mal considered the things she could say without being too obvious. When she saw that she was nearly done, she panicked.

“Being a doctor must not give you a lot of free time.”

 “With patients like you…” Dr. Grimhilde grinned teasingly, “It’s a lot, sure, but not bad. I happen to enjoy what I do – it could be worse.”

Mal nodded, trying to think of something to say to that, but came up empty. She frowned.

Luckily, Dr. Grimhilde seemed to know how to proceed. She tightened her ponytail from pulling from both sides before asking, somewhat nervously, “You’re not um… seeing anyone, are you?”

Mal chuckled, and Dr. Grimhilde seemed taken aback, “Who, Ben?” At the doctor’s sheepish nod, Mal chuckled again, “God, no. I mean, we tried when we were like, fifteen, but it was too weird. He’s like a brother. He has a girlfriend and everything.”

Okay, maybe that was too much exposition. Whatever. It’s not like Mal’s not past over exposition when it comes to the doctor.

Dr. Grimhilde looked relieved. “Mal…” She trailed off nervously, “I don’t make a habit out of this, but… there’s something about you,” she shook her head lightly, “I have the day off on Saturday. Would you like to do something with me? Maybe go out to dinner…?”

Mal tried really hard not to squeal, one because, uh, _gross_ , and two because she really thinks if she let out the squeal she was threatening to right now, dogs would invade this hospital. So she just gave what she hoped was a calm and collected smile and nodded, “Yeah,” she breathed out, and she internally winced at herself, but figured it was better than going full on psycho on the doctor, “That would be great.” Okay, now, that was a calm, cool and collected response.

_(Jesus, is it just her, or is she was talking to herself in her head way too much?)_

“Is it okay if I pick the restaurant?”

“Sure.” Mal nodded once, and when her wrist throbbed underneath her cast as if to agree as well, she smirked, “Sign my cast?”

“Won’t Ben be upset I was the first?” Dr. Grimhilde asked, but still grabbed a sharpie from her coat’s pocket and quickly – and hopefully legibly and coherently – scribbled something down on her cast.

“He’ll just have to live with it,” Mal shrugged, “It’s not like there won’t be other opportunities. At least from me.”

She snorted at that, quickly covering her face in embarrassment at the sound and Mal melted.

/

She was escorting Mal out towards the waiting room when the blonde stopped abruptly and stepped in front of the doctor, having realized something of extremely vital importance.

“You’ve looked through my entire medical history, you’ve met my best friend, you’ve seen me unconscious and you’re taking me out on Saturday,” Mal listed with her good hand. Dr. Grimhilde nodded at each point, and then she looked at Mal curiously when she suddenly paused. Mal gave her a grin, “May I know your first name?”

 Dr. Grimhilde laughed, making Lonnie look up from where she sat at the reception, and Mal laughed with her. Once they’ve calmed down, she smiles, “My name is Evie.”

Mal smiles, really, really glad the three hundred and eighty times she’s hit her head caused the short circuit that resulted in this very moment.

* * *

This time it’s not her fault, like, at all.

Seriously. Evie can testify to that.

Because it’s her fault. Wholly and entirely _her f_ ault.

 _Hers._ Not Mal’s.

Got that? Good. Now on to what happened.

She was chopping vegetables – and, okay, before you say anything, yeah, she’s aware of how that sounds. But remember how she said it’s not her fault? Yeah. So you can un-raise that all-knowing eyebrow.

_(Side note: Google if it’s normal having heated discussions with your own self in your head later.)_

So. She was chopping vegetables, and she was being extra careful as she did it – because of her DDA, as she fondly called it because it always made Evie laugh before she corrected her with a smile.

(“I know you know it’s DCD,” Evie had chuckled once, “But it was really cute that first time and it keeps being cute so I don’t want you to stop.” And then they made out for like, an hour. Which was awesome.)

Anyway.

Back to chopping vegetables carefully - because of her mild case of DCD, and because she was still sporting some scratches from last week’s outing with her friends, but also because Evie’s kitchen counter was really nice and she didn’t want to like, ruin it with her blood, and if she wasn’t careful, that was definitely a possibility.

Then, to ruin her focus, Evie came up behind her and hugged her from behind, her arms wrapping around her waist and her head coming to rest on top of Mal’s right shoulder.

“Can I help you?” Mal asked, pausing her meticulous and extra careful chopping for a moment.

“I’m smelling you.”

“That’s kinda freaky. You’re not some sort of serial killer doctor who’s gonna chop me up in pieces and keep me in your fridge for practice, are you?”

Evie chuckled and buried her nose deeper into Mal’s neck, tickling the blonde a little and making her squirm, “That’s strangely specific. I should be worried.”

“You’re the one with the expertise to diagnose any weirdness in me, Miss Doc.”

Evie chuckled and rolled her eyes, turning her head a little to plant a kiss on her cheek, “Back to the matter before you spiral on me… No, I’m not a serial killer who’s gonna chop you up in pieces – and even if I were, I wouldn’t have to do anything. Just hand you the knife and walk away.”

Mal rolled her eyes and resumed her (super careful, super slow, super focused) chopping; trying her hardest to ignore the head perched on her shoulder like a pirate’s parrot.

This is the bit that it all went downhill, and also the bit that proves that this was Evie’s fault and not Mal’s. Pay attention or you might miss it.

“I love you, M.”

 _See?!_ It was only the natural course of things that the knife slipped from Mal’s hand! Like, that was the _first time_ either of them had said that! It was bound to result in Mal hissing in pain as she watched the cut in her hand from the knife welling up in _holy shit, that’s a lot of_ blood, and then swaying back as the lightheadedness starts to make itself known.

Evie tries to keep her standing in her arms, but by this point Mal is pretty much dead-weight, and the last thing she can remember hearing somewhat clearly is Evie asking if she’s okay.

Which, judging by the way the floor rose up to meet her not even seconds after that, would be a hard no.

/

She wakes up on Evie’s couch.

Evie’s eyebrows were furrowed in concern, her hands holding a towel to Mal’s hand firmly.

“That went poorly.” Mal said, and Evie looked up at her, a small amount of her concern giving place to relief at seeing her awake, “I hate the sight of blood.”

“That’s actually pretty surprising, considering how often you bleed yourself half to death.” Evie commented, still holding the towel. Mal tries not to take offense. It wasn’t that often that she bled herself to death. Maybe once or twice.

Perhaps three.

Okay, maybe it was more than that. But it was definitely less than 20. More than that would be ridiculous.

“What’s the prognosis, Doc?” She smiled weakly instead of commenting on Evie’s bold (and backed up on facts) statement.

“You’ll need a couple of stitches. I was just waiting for you to come back to the land of living before I could take you to the ER.”

Mal frowned, “Can’t you just do this here?”

“Sure, let’s just go down to my basement where I keep the medical supplies,” Evie said, giving her a creepy smile, and when Mal blanched, she laughed out loud, “Do you really think I have those here? Mal, _please_. All I have here in terms of needles is a knitting kit, and I don’t think that’s sanitary.”

“Don’t scare me like that.” And like, Mal knew that her girlfriend wasn’t actually a serial killer, but Mal was in a vulnerable position post-passing out, so she’s really not in the right state of mind to be fucked with like that.

(And Evie’s smile _was_ pretty creepy. Kinda hot too. _Wait, **what?** Nope. No. She’ll just file this under "things to Google and see if I’m okay mentally".)_

“You’re just too creative.” Evie said, laughing still, and then she took a deep breath, “Ready for a fun trip to your favorite place on Earth?”

Mal sighed, “Fine.”

/

Luckily, they managed to sneak into the hospital room without being seen, which was great, because Mal really was not in the mood to be teased by the staff – mainly Lonnie, who had her friends’ contacts, who had a group chat with said friends, who told them every time Mal would walk in with a new injury they didn’t know about.

Mal closed her eyes when Evie injected the anesthetic and began to stitch her up.

“E.”

“Mm?”

“You made a poor decision when you told me what you did when I had that knife in my hand.”

“I realized that the moment you passed out.” Evie responded, then she added, “I’m thinking I should try and baby proof everything around you so I can speak freely without you getting injured. I could call it Mal-proof, if you’re not okay with me calling you baby.”

“You’re rambling.” Mal noted, somewhat smitten at being called baby in such a weird context. But she guesses this is who they are as a couple.

“Sorry, I’m nervous.” Evie excused herself.

They were in silence for a minute.

“E?”

“Yeah, baby?”

Mal shook her head and chuckled, “I love you too.”

The uncomfortable pulling sensation from the stitching stopped, and Mal opened her eyes when she felt soft hands on either side of her face.

Evie kissed her gently, passionately, and everything faded away.

/

Side note: Mal thinks she’ll gladly get hurt all the time if it meant Evie would be there to kiss it ( _it being her_ ) better every time. She likes to think of Evie as the world’s best Band-Aid.

And the best part is that she’s all hers.

(She’s kind of totally awesome that way.)

_**(Filed under: Google later if romanticizing getting seriously injured for romantic attention is any sign of mental instability.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to let me know what you guys think! Was it too awful? Also... was it just me or did you guys miss Uma in this? :/ I'm shocked @ myself. I'll have to compensate on my next one. ANYWAY! Hope you guys have an awesome Friday! 
> 
> (P.S. Don't forget to follow/talk to me on tumblr @ evies-grimhildes. But you know, only if you feel like it. No pressure or anything - but do it.)


End file.
